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Hymenal 



THOMAS S. THORP, Jr 



PRINTED FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION. 






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RESIDENCE OF HJS FATHE R , 

WASHINGTON AVENUE, 

BROOKLYN, 

ON 

WEDNESDAY MORNING, MARCH 6, 1867, 

Wkimt St . ©tootj), ft. 

Aged 25 years, 3 months, 7 days. 



§4foMW at t\u $mm\, 

IN 

CLINTON AVENUE CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, 
March 9, 1867. 



||bbress of Ijis |? as tor, 
Eev. W. I. BUDINGTON, D. D. 



"Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy 
water-spouts : all thy waves and thy billows are 
gone over me. Yet the Lord will command his 
loving kindness in the day-time, and in the 
night his song shall be with me, and my prayer 
unto the God of my life." 

These words of the Psalmist, become ours to- 
day. There are times, and this is one of them, 
when calamities seem to swallow us up, when 
they descend upon us from above and rise up 
from beneath. Calamity meets calamity, heaven 
is obscured, and every earthly prospect is cut off. 
It is like the meeting of the waters as in the 
conception of the Psalmist, floods swelling from 



8 

beneath and pouring from above, and no hope 
for the little tempes t-enveloped bark. But there 
is hope ; much remains, all remains, God is left 
us ! "The Lord will command his loving kind- 
ness in the day-time, and in the night his song- 
shall be with us." God is our Eefuge and 
Strength, an ever present help in trouble. 
Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be 
removed, and though the mountains be carried 
into the midst of the sea ; though the waters 
roar and be troubled, though the mountains 
shake with the swelling thereof. 

This is our comfort to-day, and all our com- 
fort ; when we look before us and see what death 
has done ; When we look back and think what a 
day has brought forth, our hearts die within us, 
we refuse to be comforted, we are ready to de- 
spair. Take from us faith, faith in the God and 
Father of our Lord Jesus, and you take from us 
all we have to-day. You leave us unprotected 
to the furv of a storm we can neither bear nor 



9 

flee from ; we can only wish we had never been 
born. 

It is hard for ns to realize the bereavement 
that has befallen ns, hard for ns all, and espe- 
cially for me. Day before yesterday my eyes 
were gladdened by the sight of my dear native 
land, after an absence of eight months. My 
heart was tremulous with joy, in anticipation of 
meeting the friends to whom the parting word 
was said last midsummer. Among these was 
one whose countenance was like a burst of sun- 
light, and the pressure of whose hand I can still 
feel in mine. He was amongst the last to bid 
me good-by. His farewell words lingered long 
in memory, so sweet were they in tone, so 
full were they in meaning ; he came bring- 
ing flowers, the richest, the purest, and best 
of the Summer ; emblems of his own beau- 
tiful nature, and alas ! that I must add, how 
little I thought it at the time, emblems of his 
own frailty — like the flowers he has also passed 



10 



away. I thought, as I looked upon him, that I 
had never seen a more amiable youth, nor yet a 
happier, and I think so still. I never saw a young 
man more gifted in person, in mind, and charac- 
ter, all-combined, than Thomas S. Thorp, Jr. 

But months had passed since I saw him. I had 
heard nothing of his failing health, nothing 
of the cloud that had gathered over his fine 
and sensitive intellect. I was leaning over the 
ship's side to catch the first words of friendly 
greeting from the dock, to ask if all were well, 
and I was told he ivas dead ! At first I could not, 
I would not make out the words ; and when 
these were so distinctly spoken as to be no lon- 
ger doubtful, I could not put meaning into the 
words. But the strange and stern truth is out 
at last ; we all know it ; our dear young friend, 
Thomas S. Thorp, Jr., is dead. 

His pure spirit has flown, the graceful and ris- 
ing column of his life is broken off, his lofty as- 
pirations have shot on to a higher sphere, and 



11 



what new development lie is taking on is hidclen 
from our sight. 

It is now about twelve years since I first knew 
Uim, then a boy of thirteen. A stranger myself 
in Brooklyn, I had my attention called to him by 
his Sunday School Teacher, who said to me one 
day, that " Tommy Thorp was concerned about 
his sins," and "what they are," added his Teach- 
er, " I am sure I cannot imagine, for I never saw 
a fault in him." This was the first remark about 
young Thorp which I ever heard ; it impressed 
me at the time and has remained with me ever 
since, for it is the testimony which has long 
since been given of him by all that knew him. 
I have heard it repeated to me to-day, by one 
whose knowledge of him was most intimate, his 
employer for the last eight years, who told me 
that during that time he never had a fault to lay 
to his charge. It was a rare instance of a beau- 
tiful life growing up evenly from a beautiful root 
in early childhood. When he became a Chris- 



12 

tian as he did by profession in 18G0, there was lit- 
tle or no change in outward deportment, for 
there was room for none. He grew rapidly, 
however, in grace, and strength, and dignity 
of character, during the last two years. With 
opening manhood, trials came, and most man- 
fully did he bear them ; while he suffered he re- 
joiced, while he strove he grew. It was the de- 
velopment of a strong will as well as graceful 
manhood. They who knew most of the workings 
of his heart, honored and admired him most. 
There was the blending in him of qualities 
which, if not opposite, are often found apart. 
He was ambitious and yet unselfish, gentle but 
heroic, sensitive and tender, but courageous and 
of soldierly endurance. I have it from an officer 
of the Twenty-third Eegiment, who was with him 
in Pennsylvania, when our militia were suddenly 
called upon to repel the rebel invasion of that 
State, that slight as he was of figure, and all un- 
used to the severities of forced marches, he 



13 



never fell behind, but without murmur or com- 
plaint, in hunger, wet, and cold, he marched with 
the foremost. 

There was something" in this blending of the 
masculine and feminine virtues in him which 
made him a favorite in all comjjanies, and awak- 
ened admiration in opposite quarters. He was 
so unselfish that if I were to select out one trait 
from all the rest, it would be this, he was never 
so happy, his radiant face never so radiant, as 
when he was making others happy, and partaking 
of a glee to which he himself had imj)arted the 
greater part. It was this that made him so will- 
ing and happy a laborer in the Atlantic Avenue 
Mission School. For years, in season and out of 
season, he worked in that humble field, and 
spared not himself, finding his reward in the joy 
his work gave him. It was beautiful to see his 
hearty enjoyment of the children's delight in 
their annual excursion, to which he contributed 
so much. To one who said to him on an anni- 



14 

versary day, what a hard day this is for Teach- 
ers, he replied with a look of surprise, " how can 
you say so ! what can be more delightful than to 
witness such happiness, and among so many?" 

Of late he had been deeply interested in the 
Young Men's Christian Association, giving to it 
his time and sympathy and warmest affections. 
He rejoiced in every effort for self-culture by 
young men ; he longed with a brother's longing 
for the spiritual well-being of his comrades. He 
gave most beautiful exhibitions of affectionate 
concern for his fellow-clerks ; some here present 
can bear witness to his faithful love, some, perad- 
venture, who owe to him their present hopes of 
everlasting life. The late Convention, at Albany, 
of the Young Men's Christian Association, was 
attended by him, and was to him a season of the 
highest enjoyment and subiimest hope. He 
came back to us all aglow with holy enthusiasm. 
He had not only large expectations of good to 
come from that Association, but he believed he 



15 



stood upon the precincts of a new era ; lie 
thought he saw the rosy feet of a new day, for 
the Church and for Christian young men, already 
upon the mountains in the East. He believed 
that the enthusiasm of youth would be conse- 
crated to Christ and the Church ; and he expected, 
as he prayed, that the predicted glory of the lat- 
ter day would begin with the young. I shall 
never forget, I do not think the members of 
this Church will ever forget, the prayers and ex- 
hortations that fell, or rather rose, from his lips 
at the weekly prayer meeting. I was astonished 
at their intellectual power; I was subdued by 
their spiritual beauty. 

If all this be true, you will ask, why was such 
an one taken, and taken, too, in such a way ? 
Alas ! I do not know. I shall not even attempt 
to solve the mystery ; be it enough for me to 
know God has done it ! He shrouds His ways, 
many of them, in thickest folds of darkness ; and 
we will believe, not in spite of our ignorance, 



16 



but lecause of it, that the secret is both too great 
and too good for us, that it is a secret of love ! 
But it is not all mystery, there are some things 
to be seen and to be learned, and these things 
let us learn all the more carefully, because there 
are other things we cannot know, and cannot 
even conjecture. 

1. The first is, God is not dependent upon 
you, or me, or upon any one else, to carry out 
His work ; He can dispense with the purest and 
best servants He has on the earth ; however nec- 
essary they seem to us, they are not necessary 
to Him. God seems to us, as we look at things, 
prodigal in the expenditure of his means ; he ap- 
pears strangely to remove the ornaments of His 
building, and weaken its buttresses. It has 
passed into a proverb, " that the good die early." 
At the very least this occurs often enough to 
show us that God does not need them for the in- 
tegrity of His plans, nay, that it subserves His 
purposes to remove them, God is teaching us, 



17 

how often and in how many ways, to look to 
Him, and not to the instrument He uses ! God 
lives, and therefore his cause shall live, not 
only when his servants die, but because, like 
His Son, they die ! 

2. Another lesson. He has uses for his chil- 
dren elsewhere. Let us not doubt it ; we cannot 
doubt it. We speak of the loss to the world when 
such as he die, and we speak well. But we do 
not speak, and cannot, of the countervailing good 
to which they are called. There may be services 
so much higher than these of ours on earth, that 
it is only promotion, a utilizing of wasting ener- 
gies, when a servant of God is summoned into 
the spiritual sphere ; and as to the mode of the 
summons, by whatsoever chariot, of fire or of 
pain, the transfer is made, by the slow wasting 
away of consumption, or suddenly by the flash 
and ball of the pistol, by disease of body, or by 
disease of mind — he may be sure God has some 
lesson to teach, some law but partly known and 



18 

often broken. He would have men know and 
reverence His laws. Let it not seem strange to 
you, then, that He who spared not His own Son, 
but gave Him up to death by crucifixion, should 
have purposes of His own, and grave ones, to 
answer, which shall require His servants to die, 
and die most painfully. " The disciple is not 
above his master, nor the servant above his Lord." 
3. We learn that, in this life, evil is bound up 
in good, most strangely and inscrutably ; that 
death hides itself in life. Had our young friend 
been less gifted, less energetic, less self-forgetful 
and heroic, less filled with high and Chris- 
tian aspiration, he had probably been living now ! 
He overtasked himself, and this was the cause of 
his death ; he overworked his highly sensitive 
nature. He was like a sensitive plant, he felt 
what he felt in every pore and fibre. Every feat- 
ure of his countenance spoke not less than his 
tongue ; he knew of no excellence that he did not 
aspire after, and his efforts were most costly and 



19 



unceasing; lie had no spare, — hours by night and 
by day all were appropriated to some good use 
for himself or for others. 

He regretted, at times very deeply, the loss of 
a liberal education, for which at one time he was 
destined, and he tried by extra labor to make up 
for the loss ; he sought the society of intellect- 
ual young men, shared in their generous aims, 
and became an active member of clubs whose 
animating purpose was self-improvement. Mean- 
time, along with this, he intermitted no effort in 
the line of his daily calling. Trying to do all 
things well, he essayed to do the best things in 
the best possible way. 

When I recall his earnest and feeling face, when 
I see before me his slender and agile form sway-< 
ing to the breeze of every emotion, when I recall 
the echoes of his departed voice, and they live 
again in my memory, soulful and quivering 
with life, I say to myself the work of death has 
already begun in him, he is living too intensely, 



20 

this cannot last, there will be a rebound, a col- 
lapse must come. I say it noiv, I did not say it 
tlien ; alas ! that we did not, but we could not. 
It was hidden from us, and it is the province of 
omniscience alone to foresee with certainty such 
results. But God has taught us what nothing 
less costly, perhaps, would have taught us ; we 
shall be the wiser, the world and the church the 
better for it ! 

That overburdened nature came to a sudden 
pause — a strange, dark cloud, little by little, be- 
gan to settle upon his mind. There was nothing 
in all the horizon of his future to occasion it, 
nothing that any friendly eye could discern, no 
sign of the coming storm, as big as a man's 
hand ; on the contrary, his outlook upon life was 
never fairer. He himself said he could not un- 
derstand what ailed him. There was no cause 
that he could assign for his melancholy ; still, a 
strange oppression he could neither reason against 
nor throw oif, was brooding over him ; he was 



21 

seen sitting in solitary places, holding his head in 
his hands ; when spoken to, he would always 
answer, sometimes naturally and with an effort 
to smile, at other times meekly and patiently 
but with sad hopelessness. The truth was, God 
had somehow touched the secret spring of men- 
tal health within him ; the malady was unseen, 
unknown ; human wisdom and love could not re- 
move it. He knew that he was surrounded by 
troops of friends, that he was the recipient of the 
prize he had most coveted in life, the dear love of 
her he loved best. He used to say he would give 
worlds if he could rid himself of the oppression 
that bore him down as with a mountain's weight. 
He seemed to say 

" The sunshine is a glorious birth, 
And yet I know, where'er I go, 
That there has passed away a glory from the earth." 

I find written in his pocket memorandum book 
the following lines : 



22 



" Why should I live ? Do I not know 
The life of man is full of woe, 
Toiling on, and on, and on, 
With breaking heart, and tearful eyes, 
And silent lips, and in the soul 
The secret longings that arise, 
Which this world never satisfies ; 
Some more, some less, but of the whole 
Not one quite happy, no, not one. 
The grave itself is but a covered bridge, 
Leading from light to light through a brief darkness." 

The lesson of it all is not to over- work, — not 
to over-work even in the best line of things, and 
notwithstanding that, in a world like this, there 
are too few workers and too much that waits to 
be done. God has drawn a line athwart the path 
of all, and says to each, thus far shalt thou come 
and no farther. If we go beyond we suffer, it 
may be fatally, although we do -it ignorantly, in 
unbelief, and with the best motives. The bright- 
est intellect, like that of Hugh Miller, becomes 
a darkened ruin. We in this age, and let 



23 

me add in this country, and especially in this 
metropolis, need the caution ; we are living 
too fast, and many an earnest and sensitive na- 
ture is overtasked. 

Let us learn, also, a lesson of charity for one 
another, of sympathy and thoughtful considera- 
tion for the young. Let us learn to reverence 
these bodies of ours ; they are wonderfully made, 
complex and delicate to the last degree. The 
anatomist will show you that life and health are 
dependent upon little threads of gossamer fine- 
ness ; and this is but an emblem of our spiritual 
nature, the most delicate as it is the sublimest of 
all God's handiwork. Let us, then, reverence 
the nature God has given us, and fear to sin 
against it. Let us cultivate moderation of 
desire, — a temperance which moderates and 
controls effort within the limits assigned by the 
Providence and Word of God ! 



OF 

Eev. EDWIN JOHNSON, 

OF 

BALTIMORE, MD. 

Little needs to be added — nothing by me can 
be added— to render more complete the picture, 
or more impressive the sentiments, which the 
words of my brother have brought before us. I 
owe the sad privilege of being here, in part to 
the fact that there was doubt, at the time I was 
summoned, whether he would arrive in season 
for the funeral service. A doubt happily soon 
removed. But since I stand in the relation of 
warm friendship to these stricken families, I am 
glad to be here that I may mingle my sympathy 
with the great current of sympathy that 
seeks to afford to them some support, and 



26 



that I may offer my humble tribute of respect 
and love at the grave of him whom we mourn. 

My acquaintance with him was not long, but 
affection and confidence were plants of quick 
growth in so genial an atmosphere as that which 
he breathed around him. He was so full of sun- 
shine that his face and character were photo- 
graphed forever upon the memory and hearts of 
each one whom he met and who was sensitive to 
the impress. Greeted by him at the close of a 
service in this house last Summer, and walking 
with him in pleasant converse under the foliage 
that then wove its friendly screen over the 
Avenue, I felt my soul knit to his, as the soul of 
Jonathan was knit to David's. His spiritual 
nature seemed to me to fill and over-fill the frail 
bodily framework in which it was lodged. It 
beamed full-orbed from his eyes, gave earnest- 
ness to the tones of his voice, and warmth to the 
pressure of his hand. His body seemed to think 
and to be fraught with unselfish feeling. 



27 



I could not better set forth niy conception 
of his character than by quoting the list of 
qualities which the apostle comprehends under 
the title of charity, or the spirit of Christian 
love. Was he not an example of patient 
forbearance, of habitual kindness, of freedom 
from envy, vanity, and boasting. Had he 
not the true courtesy that is born of hu- 
mility and benevolence ? Did he not manifest 
zeal for others' interests rather than his own? 
Was he not slow to wrath, and ready to forgive ? 
Had he not the sensitive purity of mind that 
made him to delight in what was true, honest, 
pure, lovely, and of good report, and to feel, 
toward the opposite, disdain and indignation ? 

Many things did he say and do that are worthy 
of our remembrance and honor : but, after all, 
we tenderly remember, we reverently and greatly 
honor him for what he ivas, in his whole life 
and spirit, rather than for the things which he 
here and there said or did. By his gentleness 



28 

and goodness and purity, lie gave to his common 
activities grace, and made his very presence and 
look a means of grace, so that, while we loved 
and admired him, we felt ourselves uplifted by 
him, and all that was low or little in us rebuked. 

But, dear friends, these praises, though sin- 
cere and of the nature of praise only, because 
the truth respecting him of whom we speak 
hath that nature, cannot profit him. In his 
earthly presence we should have been prohibit- 
ed from saying what is now our privilege to say 
for our own comfort and instruction ; he needs 
for himself nothing of eulogy nor of service. 

I thought, when Dr. Budington was describing 
his own message from the ship's deck as he came 
into port, " Is all well ? " and the sad answer, that 
I could hear another answer falling from the 
serene upper spheres — "All is well ! " If he who 
comes from foreign lands and the stormy Atlan- 
tic wave, is glad when he sees the shores of 
home, and steps from the deck to greet and 



29 

be greeted by loved associates from whom by 
leagues and months he has been divided, how 
happy the soul must be that from earthly voy- 
aging and time's vicissitudes hath safely reached 
the heavenly shore and the celestial assembly. 
Such the change which our friend hath experi- 
enced. 

" As a bird to its sheltering nest, 

When the storm on the hills is abroad, 
So his spirit hath flown from this world of unrest, 
To repose on the bosom of God — 

Where the sorrows of earth never more 

May fling o'er its brightness a stain ; 
Where in rapture and love it shall ever adore, 

With a gladness unmingled with pain, 
And its thirst shall be slaked by the waters that spring, 
Like a river of light, from the throne of the King. 

Though brightness hath passed from the earth, 

Yet a star is new-born in the sky, 
And a soul hath gone home to the land of its birth, 

Where are pleasures and fullness of joy ; 



30 



And a new harp is strung, and a new song is given, 
To the breezes that float o'er the gardens of heaven." 

If that enfranchised spirit is a witness of our 
assembly, I cannot doubt what word it chiefly 
desires to have spoken in the hearing of all who 
are present, the warning word, Be ye also ready. 
We realize to-day the satisfaction which a devot- 
ed religious life affords when followed by a sud- 
den and tragic death. How sad and awful this 
scene, now glorified with comfort and the full 
assurance of hope, if our friend had been a 
wicked or worldly man, or even doubtfully a 
Christian. 

A few weeks ago I stood by the dying bed of 
one whom I loved and honored, and whom the 
State of Maryland had honored by putting him 
into one of her highest judicial offices. He had 
earned the position by talent and industry, and 
ardent loyalty, and unblemished morals. But 
though his lamp had once been lighted as a fol- 
lower of Christ, it had been suffered to burn low, 



31 



so that when the solemn summons came he found 
himself for a season in darkness. Thank God 
there was a delay sufficiently long to allow the 
almost extinguished light to be replenished, and 
it flamed up brightly at the last. But I can never 
forget how profound was the grief with which 
that friend reviewed his life, finding in it this one 
calamitous and irreparable mistake, the lack of 
a piety that should have dominated over every 
interest, and have been the one noticeable and re- 
membered quality of his character. "Oh!" he 
exclaimed, "oh, that I had thoroughly identified 
myself with Christ's people and Christ's cause ! " 

When Sir Walter Scott was dying, he 
thought not of his literary works and his fame, 
but calling his son-in-law to his side, he said : 
" Lockhart, I may have but a minute to speak 
to you. My dear, be a good man, be virtuous, be 
religious ; nothing else will give you any comfort 
when you come to lie here." 

Such testimony is abundant, and to the ordi- 



32 

nary force of it is added emphasis by the present 
occasion, which reminds us how sudden the sum- 
mons from time to eternity may be, and that, 
even while time continues, the derangement of 
bodily faculties may so affect the mind that from 
its imperial place it shall be cast down, no longer 
capable of intelligent thought or judgment, but, 
like a rudderless vessel, driven of fierce winds 
and tossed. 

Shall we not learn anew, and from him who be- 
ing dead yet speaketh, the duty of immediate 
and constant preparation for the coming of our 
Lord ? So shall we best honor him and fulfill his 
desire. And so his death, like that of Jesus' 
loved friend Lazarus, shall prove to have been 
for the glory of God. 

May grace be given unto you, O stricken 
ones, to triumph even in your tribulation, and 
thus show to the heart of unbelief itself that 
the Christian religion is true, and adequate to 
illumine the darkest of earthly scenes. 



%xiHU& 



TO HIS MEMORY 



BY THE TEACHERS OF THE ATLANTIC AVENUE 
SABBATH SCHOOL. 

With the shadow of a great gloom resting on us, and with 
our hearts burdened with sorrow, we, the Teachers of the Atlan- 
tic Avenue Sabbath School, come to-day to the most painful 
experience that has ever befallen us in this, our " Sabbath Home." 
For the first time since the formation of the School has death 
entered our band of Teachers, and has snatched from our num- 
ber the one in whom the affections of us all were centered, and 
whose valuable aid we hoped to enjoy for many years to come. 
It is with a sadness that words cannot express, that we are com- 
pelled to feel that the sweet ties that bound us together are 
sundered, and that we have been bereft of the dear companion 
and the faithful teacher whom we so highly prized. 

For seven years has Thomas S. Thorp, Jr., been associated 
with us in these delightful duties. Coming into the school soon 
after he made a public profession of religion, he did it with a 
deliberate purpose to consecrate all his powers to the work of 
glorifying his Saviour, and of benefiting the children of his class. 



36 



Faithful in his preparation for his work, affectionate in his inter- 
course with his scholars, personal in his application of truth to 
their hearts, watchful over their interests, and sympathizing with 
all their wants and aspirations, he secured their confidence, and 
repaid it with the treasures of a gifted mind and a heart over- 
flowing with the tenderest love. 

With his fellow-teachers he was always genial and kind, quick 
to respond to any plan to promote the interest of the school, 
ardent and enthusiastic in all his efforts for increasing its 
efficiency or promoting the happiness of his scholars, zealous for 
the prosperity of every scheme connected with our mission, and 
ever ready with hand and heart to do the duty that devolved on 
him. 

As the leader of our music during all his connection with the 
school, his refined and cultivated taste exerted a sweet and in- 
spiring influence upon us all, making this service of praise one 
of worship, and associating him indelibly in our memories with 
the holy harmonies he loved while here, and in which his glad 
and exultant spirit will forever unite around the throne of God 
in heaven. 

In all his relations with us he called forth our love and admi- 
ration, and, though one of the youngest of our number, his pres- 
ence with us was a constant incentive to earnest devotion to the 



37 



great work which he loved so dearly because it was so dear to 
Christ. 

We shall miss him in every branch of our work, for he had 
identified himself closely with it all. "We shall miss him in our 
meetings for study and for prayer, where his thoughtful inquiries 
and his earnest petitions showed that he was no stranger to the 
Word of God, or to the fountain from which alone we can draw 
the wisdom and the needed strength for our work. We shall 
miss him from our weekly sessions of the school, where his 
earnest devotion to his duties, his reverent demeanor, and his 
loving influence over his class marked him as a teacher of rare 
promise and excellence. We shall miss him, sadly miss him, as 
we lift our hearts and voices in our songs of praise. We shall 
miss him in our season of festivities and enjoyment, to which his 
generous heart and his buoyant spirit always added so much of 
zest and happiness. We shall miss his beaming face, his kindling 
eye, his loving heart, the warm pressure of his hand, the quick 
responsive sympathy, the rich endowments of mind and soul 
that endeared him to us all as the loved companion, the trusted 
associate, the Christian brother and friend. 

Grateful to our Heavenly Father for this long and intimate 
connection which we shall always prize, rejoicing in all the sweet 
and precious memories with which his name and his works will 



38 



ever be embalmed in our hearts, and trusting that for each of us 
there may be a blessed reunion with him at the feet of the Great 
Teacher in the world of light and love, we wish to enter upon 
our records this minute, as a feeble tribute to his manly excellen- 
cies and his Christian worth. 



On behalf of the Teachers. 



Samuel E. Warner, Sup't. 
Alfeed Wicks, Ass't Sup't. 
Wm. H. Harris, Treas. 
Henry M. Cowles, Sec'y, 



Brooklyn, March 10, 1867, 



BY THE BROOKLYN YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN 
ASSOCIATION. 

" Thy spirit, ere our fatal loss, 

Did ever rise from high to higher, 

As mounts the heaven-ward altar fire, 
As flies the lighter through the gross. 

M And doubtless, unto thee is given 
A life that bears immortal fruit, 
In such great offices as suit 
The full-grown energies of heaven." 

Tennyson. 

The sad record must be made — we wish it were not needed — 
that our beloved brother, Thomas S. Thorp, Jr., one of our 
Vice-Presidents, is no more. On the morning of March 6th, by 
an unseen hand, which guided his own, his life was taken away 
from us. This peculiar event has not only palled us with its 
sadness, but stirred us into wonderment at the strange provi- 
dence which could permit one who had always been, from child- 
hood, so true and noble, to be thus aberrated and self-destructive, 



40 



A peculiar precedent to this case is found in that of the illus- 
trious Hugh Miller, whose over-tasked brain burst its barriers 
and drove him into self-wrought death. Why was all this per- 
mitted ? The answer is plain. It is to teach us not only, as the 
honored Pastor of the deceased (Dr. Budington) said at the 
funeral, " to reverence the body," but to care for the mind, that 
its capacities be not taxed beyond the power of endurance. 

There are multitudes who never, in their physical or mental 
endeavors, come anywise near to the fullest employment of their 
faculties. But there are a few highly sensitive, nobly endowed, 
and intensely conscientious souls who, fearing lest they may not 
do all their duty, goad themselves into an excess of effort, until 
the brittle strings of nature's harp, drawn too tensely, snap in 
twain, and life is lost. This was most sadly true of our lamented 
brother Thorp. His energies were ever so continuously and 
earnestly put forth, his time so thoroughly employed in efforts 
for self-improvement or for the good of others, that poor human 
nature staggered under the weight it bore until health failed, 
morbid depression ensued, and death brought the fearful climax. 
Alas ! that so soon, so sadly, and so surely came the fatal stroke. 

Every member of our Association feels that event to be a per- 
sonal affliction. Even those who knew him not, never having 
seen his face, feel that a glory has passed from earth with him, 



41 



and that the void made by his loss will not soon be filled. This 
was very manifest at our last regular monthly meeting, when 
Alfred Wicks, Esq., an intimate friend of the deceased, and 
Chairman of the Committee to draft resolutions upon the subject, 
presented his report. Mr. Wicks was introduced by our Presi- 
dent, Mr. E. D. Barker, as follows : " It is a very sad thing for 
me to say that our brother Thorp has departed this life. I 
might stop to declare some of the feelings, so painful, which I 
experience in view of this mournful event. But I will not take 
up your time with a recital of them and therefore ask you to 
listen, as I believe you will with interest, to the Resolutions 
which will be presented to you by Mr. Wicks, as Chairman of 
the Committee, appointed specially for that purpose." 
Mr. Wicks then read the following Resolutions : 

Whereas, It has pleased Almighty God to remove from us 
our beloved Brother Thomas S. Thorp, Jr., one of the Vice- 
Presidents of this Association. 

Resolved, That we cordially and unanimously unite in express- 
ing our sorrow at the loss of one, whose pure and earnest Chris- 
tian character rendered him at once an ornament to the Associa- 
tion and a noble example to its members. 

That his faithful and conscientious discharge of all the duties 
allotted to him, is most affectionately acknowledged by all who 
were privileged to share with him in the work of the As- 
sociation. 

That, as friends and brother members, we offer this tribute of 



42 



love and respect to his memory, and gladly bear testimony to the 
unselfish and generous nature, and to the rare excellences of 
character which have endeared him to all who knew him. 

That we deeply sympathize with his afflicted family in their 
bereavement, and, as in the providence of God they have been 
called upon to walk in the shadow of this great sorrow, may our 
Heavenly Father in the abundance of his mercies sustain and 
comfort them in this hour of severe trial. 

That a copy of the foregoing resolutions be sent to the family 
of our deceased brother, signed by the President and Secretary 
of this meeting. 

The reading of these resolutions made a very deep impression 
upon the audience, which was increased by the tender 
remarks of Mr. Wicks following them. "There are times," 
said Mr. W., "in our individual and social life, when the very 
wheels of our being seem to stop and we are suddenly checked 
in our onward course. This now is one of those times. By the 
death of our brother we are called to pause awhile and ponder. 
The privilege of an acquaintance with him was that of many 
here, as it was mine. Those who did not enjoy that privilege, 
may be disposed to think that there is very much in these reso- 
lutions altogether too flattering. But we who were acquainted 
with our deceased brother, would add a still more glowing 
tribute to his memory. When a boy of only twelve years, he 
exhibited very marked signs of Christian character, and at the 
age of twenty-five he has died, having lived a most consistent 



43 



disciple of Christ. Religion, if I may so speak, had grown up 
"with him, interwoven with every fibre of his nature. He seemed 
to possess a secret magnetism by which he drew all toward him 
who came, at any time and under whatever circumstances, into 
personal contact with him. There was a sweetness and grace of 
character about him, which all may possess who make Chris- 
tianity the motive power of life till the man grows up the 
true and perfect Christian. 

" Our brother had not been long a member of the Board of 
Managers in our Association. But it was long enough for him 
to impress them fully with a sense of his excellence. Only 
last Spring was he elected, and I think that every one 
who since has been associated with him, in an official capac- 
ity, will give the most assuring testimonies that all I say of him 
is true beyond question. His church relations were most useful 
and agreeable to his fellow-members. They will remember the 
intense efforts he always made to improve and elevate all who 
came into contact with him. Indeed, I may say that this very 
intensity was the cause of his death. That was the sad result 
of his ever burning desire, to avail himself of every opportunity 
to improve his own mind and heart, and to impress others with a 
sense of the beauty of truth and goodness. 

" This is the testimony of a Clergyman (Rev. Mr. Johnson, of 



44 



Baltimore) who for a season supplied his Pastor's pulpit, and 
who said, at his funeral, that ' in a short walk and conversation 
with him, he gave me the impression of one who seemed to 
move on a higher plane and to breathe a purer atmosphere than 
that of common men. There was a summer purity and freshness 
about him, that made even an unspoken exhibition of grace and 
kindness.' Such a testimony as this must convince us that there 
was something in that character which is almost beyond our com- 
prehension. At the General Convention of the Young Men's 
Christian Associations, held in Albany, last Summer, he was 
present and took great delight in its proceedings. It was there 
that his devotional character was most manifest, and there he 
passed through an experience which lifted him up to a still higher 
plane of Christian fervor and faithfulness. I am but expressing 
in the simplest possible language, his own ideal conception of 
What a faithful disciple should be toward constituting a living 
Church. 

" But the fervor and intensity of his soul were too much for his 
frail body. The sword was too keen for the scabbard. That 
beautiful mind which was the casket of a religion that existed 
there in the most brilliant hope — a hope that was incarnated — be- 
came at last beclouded. There was something that seemed to 
demand the hiding of him from our admiring gaze. His mind 



45 



and spirit haye passed away, and he has left us nothing whatever 
as to what he thought or said in his last hour. But I thank God 
for the pure and noble life which has preceded his death and which 
proves that to have been a Christian one, whatever cloud may- 
otherwise brood over it. I care not for the last thought and tes- 
timony of the dying. The testimony and record of that pure 
and noble life are enough for me. It presents to us an example 
upon which we may look back with sweet memories and for pure 
incentives. It may become the means of resurrection unto eter- 
nal life to many souls, who shall look down from yonder lofty 
throne of glory and point to his memory and influence as that 
which led their spirits upward to the realms of bliss." 

At the conclusion of this tribute to the memory of our 
departed brother, Mr. William Edsall, in a most tender 
strain, said : " I have no words of eulogy to offer now. If I 
had, they are not needed as an addition to what has been already 
so appropriately said. No event has ever yet occurred in the his- 
tory of this Association which has come to us with so sudden 
and startling effect as this. It is one which, while it calls us to 
mourn, speaks also to our hearts of duty* It was my sad privi- 
lege to sit with the remains of our brother, in a night of thought- 
ful watchfulness, and I could not but think how uncertain were 
all our plans and prospects of life, and how little we knew when 
that life would be cut short; 



46 



My last conversation with the deceased — not a recent 
one — was in the city cars. His mind seemed then partic- 
ularly interested in a tract which he had been reading, 
and to which he called my attention as one worthy of 
perusal. No one who met him personally and even casually 
could fail to be impressed and improved by the religious senti- 
ment which seemed to pervade his whole heart and life. When 
his business kept him from his home at an unusual hour, he was 
impatient to get away, in order that he might have the opportu- 
nity of spending some little time in the cultivation of his mind. 
With him no moments were ever lost. His was a truly sympa- 
thetic spirit. Some four months ago, I was bowed down under 
an overwhelming weight of affliction from the loss of a beloved 
daughter, and then he was the first to hasten and speak to me 
those words of Christian sympathy which are so consoling to the 
smitten heart. We can only think of him with those feelings of 
interest which shall make us burn with the desire to leave behind 
us, as he did, the testimony of having been, to the very utmost, 
a faithful and humble follower of the Lord Jesus. He has gone 
from us. No one would have suspected that so soon he was to 
pass away. I pray God that this sad event may be sanctified to 
every one of us, and that we may be made by it more grateful 
as we go in and out rejoicing in health and life*" 



47 



The President then remarked; "I did not intend saying 
much or anything more than what I have already briefly said. 
But I cannot refrain from adding a word or two to the worthy 
testimonials which have been given for our brother. I was ac- 
quainted with him for only nine months, but in that short time 
learned to know and love him well. I suppose that none of us 
can ever know what lies within the souls even of those with 
whom we are the most familiar. So I cannot know all that was 
in his soul. But, from what I do know, I may say, that could I be 
assured of my being as fully prepared to die, as this young man 
was, I should be entirely satisfied. Not a doubt or fear would 
then disturb me. There was such confidence toward Christ in 
his heart, that it went forth from him in everything that he per- 
formed." 

Some further touching allusions were then made by others, to 
Mr. Thorp, after which resolutions were passed. 

Bulletin, March, 1867. 



BY PROF. FOSTER, OF THE COLLEGIATE AND 
POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE. 

Brooklyn, March 26, 1867. 
Mr. A. S. Barnes. 

Dear Sir : I respond most cheerfully to your request. 

" To speak nothing, except it be good, of those who are gone," 
is the dictate and desire of every generous soul, but, oh, how 
grateful the task of reminiscence, when, consistently with the 
truth, good only can be said. 

Thomas S. Thorp, Jr., was a member of the Collegiate De- 
partment of this Institute, from October, 1855, until February, 
1859 — from his fifteenth to his nineteenth year. During this 
important period of his life he devoted himself to school duties 
with singular assiduity, and, as his abilities were of a high order, 
his close application was rewarded with marked success. 

Without servility for effect, he cherished a cordial respect for 
official superiors, and was nicely scrupulous in the discharge of 
every obligation. 



49 



The esteem in which he was held among his mates, and 
the love with which he inspired them, are never awarded to 
merely negative merit. Thoep's goodness was something more 
than the absence of vice. Active in brain, fervent in heart, gen- 
tle in spirit, winning in address, and loyal ever to the truth, 
his career in the Institute is memorable for its happy and whole- 
some influence. 

Although the interval is long since his separation from school, 
my impressions in regard to him as a pupil are clear, and of the 
thousands to whom I have stood in the relation of teacher, I 
can recall no face and no character more instinct at once with 
childlike purity and manly grace. His Polytechnic instructors 
have likewise observed with great satisfaction the course of his 
brief but honorable and useful manhood. 

To him, whom so many miss and mourn, if to any, may be ap- 
plied the fond estimate of the poet, 

" None knew thee but to love thee ; 
None named thee but to praise." 



I am, very cordially, yours, &c, 

ROBEKT FOSTER. 



f » §Utttoram. 



I remember him in the home he loved, 

Where his heart was ever the lightest. 
When faces he loved were gathering round, 

Then his eye would kindle brightest — 
For the friends whose worth he had tried and proved 

He held to his heart the nearest ; 
And those who had known him longest and best, 

Were the Mends who loved him dearest. 

I remember him in life's daily round, 

Where the perils of youth are greatest ; 
But the line of duty was clear to him, 

And the path he chose was the straightest. 
And we trusted him freely, for well we knew 

That the promise he gave was surest ; 
And of all the youth that around him pressed 

He carried his shield the purest. 



51 



I remember him in the hour of prayer, 

When the spirit of God was nearest, 
And we caught a glimpse of the inner life ; 

But its light upon him was clearest. 
And we saw the glory shine through his face, 

When the joy in his heart was strongest, 
Like the placid depths of a still, clear lake, 

Where the sunbeam lingers longest. 

I remember him in the Master's work, 

For his help was always nearest ; 
And of all that he loved to labor for 

'Twas the cause of Christ was dearest ; 
And of all the gifts that graced his life 

He gave to that cause the rarest ; 
And there, where we write the noblest names, 

His record shall shine the fairest. 

A. W. 



ON THE LATE 

THOS. S. THORP, Jr. 

I. 

Why weep, unless it be from press of joy, 
For one whose silyer soul knew not th' alloy 
Of common natures, and by grace untold 
"Was transfused even into finest gold ? 

n. 

Tears are for those who have not left behind 
Truth's footprints on th' untrodden paths of mind, 
Who breathed no atmosphere of love o'er earth, 
And waked no spirit into higher birth. 

ni. 

Tears are for those whose sins have swept them off 
To realms where ruined spirits moan and scoff; 
Who leave a memory black with evil deeds, 
A life path grown with error's death-fraught weeds. 



53 



IV. 

But not for those whose life is yet unstained, 
Whose goodly purpose seems to us ungained, 
Whose manhood pure to ripeness hath not passed, 
Or whose rich age hath won its prize at last. 

V. 

No ! not for those, must we, all joyless, weep, 
Whose lesser glory, left for us to keep, 
Is changed to greater glory in that realm 
Where tearful surges never overwhelm. 

VI. 

So, brother, will our souls no sorrows bear, 
We shed for thee no bitter, burning tear ; 
Only the dews of love shall dim our eyes, 
To think of thee amid the God-lit skies. 

VII. 

For, that dark cloud, whose thunder stroke of pain 
Tortured and burst thy thought o'er-burdened brain, 
Is passed by thee, and from thy glory's heightj 
It only shines in Truth's supernal light; 



54 



vin. 

Thy mind volcanic, spent its lava tide 

And seared the flowers on thy life's mountain side ; 

But in that blaze, for thee a chariot fire, 

Thou fled'st, transfigured, to thy Heavenly Sire ! 

IX. 

Ah ! not for thee, but for the world we weep, 
To think that, while fell curses o'er it sweep, 
One barrier less is here to stay their surge, 
One streamlet dried that might their evil purge. 

X. 

But, no ! we, whose poor hearts are made to bleed, 
Know that thou wert Truth's freshest, purest seed, 
Gathered from God's great granary below, 
Which He in furrowed souls of sin, would sow. 

XI. 

More broadcast flung, — wide-wafted by His breath,- 
More deeply sown by thy strange, sudden death, 
A harvest, fuller, richer, shall be reaped, 
Than if thy life with centuries had been heaped. 



55 



xn. 

Ourselves we weep ; — that not, like thee, so pure, 
We have no loving memory to endure, 
No heart so true, no deeds so full of trust, 
To bless men's souls with blossoms from our dust. 

XIII. 

Oh ! from those heights, whence comes to us thy call, 
Let thy truth mantle on our spirits fall, 
Breathe down thy spirit with the Life divine 
That made thee, when with us, so brightly shine. 

XIV. 

Then, brother, shall we, God-enraptured, stand, 
With thee, amid that glory-circled band. 
Who, having suffered, purely lived and died, 
With Christ are crowned and ever glorified ! 

C. H. A. BULKLEY. 

Brooklyn, March 10, 1867, 



j^lwtto fww M$ Wfttinp. 



"ON THE MAKCH." 

Extracts from letters while in three months' service with the 23d Regiment, N. Y. S. M., 
called out to repel the Rebel invasion of Pennsylvania. 

Four Miles North op Carlisle, ) 
in the Woods, July 3d, 1863. J 

My Dear Mother: 

I received your very welcome letter, written last Monday even- 
ing, on Tuesday evening ; I wrote to Susie the next morning. I 
hope you have received the letter. On the afternoon of the same 
day we broke up camp and started for Carlisle. 

July 4th, 11 o'clock, A. M. — Mount Holley Gap, six miles 
south of Carlisle. 

After commencing my letter we were again ordered forward. 
We are now in the midst of the mountains below Carlisle, near 
Gettysburg. We have an immense army for us> and are in hot 
pursuit of the rebel General Ewell, who passed through this gap 
last nigbt with his entire force. Ewell is now between us and 
the army of the Potomac, and we expect to give him something 
to do to escape us. 



60 



We have been under a forced march ever since yesterday 
morning at four o'clock ; our men are very nearly tired out, but 
full of spirit, and determined to endure everything. I am very 
well, have stood it much better than I expected, and am only 
troubled with sore feet. We have marched so very far, and so 
constantly that my feet are somewhat swollen and blistered, but 
they will be better as soon as I can get time to bathe and rest 
them. 

Our life for the last few days has been entirely different from 
that of the first week or two of our camp life. As I wrote 
above, we broke up camp last Wednesday afternoon, July 1st. 
We took everything upon our backs — our knapsacks, haversacks, 
blankets, overcoats, canteens and muskets. Just before leaving, I 
weighed my baggage and found the weight to be over fifty 
pounds. 

We left Camp Couch about five o'clock, and marched eight 
miles ; but our baggage was so extremely heavy that the men 
almost fell down under it. I think this was the most severe 
march we ever had, or ever can have; it was nine o'clock at 
night before we had accomplished the eight miles. We were to 
have gone on to Carlisle, as the enemy was there engaged with 
the 37th and 22d Regiments — but, on account of the severe 
fatigue of our entire division, we were marched into a large clo* 



61 



ver field and halted, when the men spread their blankets and fell 
off to sleep in no time. When we were preparing our blankets, 
the sound of the cannon could be heard constantly, and the sky- 
was all ablaze with the light of the burning barracks which were 
set fire to by the rebels as they retreated. That night I slept as 
soundly as I ever did, although it was in an open field, with no 
tent or the slightest shelter, with our knapsacks for our pillows, 
rolled in our blankets — and although the rain fell during the 
night, it did not disturb us in the least. 

The next morning we were roused at 3 o'clock with the inten- 
tion of marching directly on Carlisle, but the news came that our 
forces had been defeated, and that the rebels were coming down 
upon us with a cavalry force of upward of ten thousand men. 
Our force consisted of the K. Y. 71st, 8th, 52d, 56th, and 23d, 
under General Knipe, whom father saw when he was here. So 
we turned and remarched toward Harrisburg again; when we 
had arrived three miles south of our former camp (Camp Couch) 
we halted, and through some mismanagement were obliged to 
remain the entire day by the side of the road, under the hot 
sun. About five o'clock we moved toward a river near by, and 
encamped for the night. All this time we had been obliged to 
carry our knapsacks, which actually rendered the men unfit for 
anything, That evening we had a splendid bath in the river, 



62 



and after eating a piece of salt pork and some coffee, we rolled 
ourselves again in our blankets, and passed another night on the 
ground. 

The next morning we were aroused very early, and again start- 
ed for Carlisle, but this time without our knapsacks ; they were 
left under a guard, to be sent on in baggage wagons. About ten 
o'clock we reached Kingston, having marched eight miles ; there 
we were received splendidly, all the farmers and their families 
were true blue, and did all they could for us. I dined on bread 
and milk, apple butter (this is a great dish in this country), 
cherries in any quantity, boiled eggs, &c. By order of General 
Knipe, but against the wish of our Colonel, we were ordered for- 
ward at one o'clock, the hottest part of the day. The sun was 
intensely hot, I think it must have been as high as 90°. After 
marching about a mile and a half, it was very evident the men 
could not stand it, — several had fallen under the effect of the ex- 
treme heat, — so we halted in the shade of a wood, and rested until 
five o'clock, when we moved forward to Carlisle, which we 
reached about seven o'clock. "We marched back of the town> 
and encamped in a field near the ruins of the barracks which 
were burned by the rebs. By this time we were very tired and 
the feet of the men very much swollen, so after a little supper we 
soon fell to sleep, with the hope of having a day to rest on the 



63 



Fourth, but this morning we were greeted quite early with the 
sound of the reveille, and the entire camp was soon in marching 
order. I think there must have been very nearly ten thousand 
troops in all who passed out of Carlisle with us this morning — 
the train extended along the road far ahead, and whenever we 
reached the top of a hill we could see the columns of men far in 
the rear. 

6 o'clock P. M., 
In a Paper Mill, Eight Miles from Carlisle. 
Since I commenced my letter we have experienced the heaviest 
thunder storm I ever knew ; the rain descended in a perfect mass 
of water, and has continued to do so for about two hours. We 
were out in the entire storm, and are consequently rather damp. 
Notwithstanding the storm, we continued our march, as there is 
the most urgent need of our presence with the main army, who, 
we hear, have been engaged with the enemy for the last four days. 
Three thousand troops have just passed us, who say they were 
captured by Lee on the 1st inst., and paroled ; they are on their 
way home. We have been marching during this storm, through 
the gap in the mountains, whose heights tower on all sides. We 
proceeded about two miles above this point, wading streams and 
rushing over torrents and waterfalls, until we met with a rush of 
water caused by the heavy fall of rain, which had swept down 



64 



the side of the mountain carrying everything before it, sweeping 
the road away, and forming a stream so rapid and deep that we 
could not pass it ; we therefore retraced our steps, and are now in 
a large paper mill, resting and drying ourselves. 

We have marched about ten or twelve miles to-day, but orders 
have just been received from General Knipe to march nine miles 
further to-night. I fear we shall have to comply, although we 
are pretty well fatigued. Our life for the past week has been 
rough in the extreme, and I think, if we stand it, we shall be able 
to endure anything. As for myself, I feel exceedingly well and 
in first-rate condition, with the exception of my feet — these I 
hope will be better soon. 

Near Gettysburg, July 6, 1863. 
"We left the paper mill on the evening of the 4th, and started 
to pass through the mountains, — out of the entire Regiment 
there were only one hundred and eighty who started with us, the 
rest were either worn out or pretended to be so. The Regiment 
had endured a great deal of fatigue and should have been 
allowed to rest, but the orders from General Knipe were impera- 
tive, and although the Colonel said it was almost suicidal to 
march again that night, yet we were obliged to move forward. 
The roads had been rendered almost impassable by the heavy 



65 



storm, but we trudged on for two miles rather slowly, until we 
came to a torrent sweeping across the road and rushing down the 
mountain. We had to wade through this, although the water 
came up above our hips ; two men of the 56th Kegiment were 
carried away by the velocity of the stream and drowned, also 
several horses ; we managed to cross, although it was hard work, 
as the torrent was wide and deep. By this time it was near nine 
o'clock at night, and there we were in the midst of the most des- 
olate region of Pennsylvania, among the mountains, surrounded 
by dense woods, not a house for miles, the rain pouring, and the 
roads almost impassable. 

My dear mother, we are all over it now, and are safely en- 
camped, but at that time I never expected to see the day again. 
We trudged on, although constantly ready to fall with fatigue 
and soreness of limbs, sometimes falling flat, but up again, know- 
ing that it was a question of life or death. About eleven o'clock 
one of our men could go no further, so our Lieutenant decided to 
rest for a time with our Company by the side of the road ; there 
were only about a dozen of us, as the rest had given out and re- 
mained at the paper mill. So we spread our rubber blankets, 
and lay down on the ground actually worn out. Some of the 
boys did not stop to spread their blankets, but fell on the grass, 
and we were soon asleep. 



66 



After sleeping for about an hour, I awoke and found the rain 
pouring heavily, and that we were all lying in pools of water, of 
course soaked to the skin. I knew we could not remain here, so 
I made the boys get up, and it was hard work too, but we again 
started and staggered on, knowing that it was our only salvation. 
If the road had been good, we could have gone on pretty well ; 
but at every step, our feet sank deep in the mud, so that to pass 
was almost impossible. We kept on, however, until one o'clock 
at night, when we reached a few log houses in the woods — we 
immediately entered one and found the floor covered with our 
meu who had gone on before — however, we managed to get a 
place to lie down and staid till morning, when we rejoined our 
men, who were in a large house a short distance ahead. Here 
we found our Colonel had commands to move on immediately, 
so the plucky men forgot their fatigue, sore feet, and everything 
else, and followed. 

We are now in possession of the Cumberland Gap, the inlet 
to the great Cumberland Valley, and the rebels in retreating have 
to pass through this place, as we have learned from a great num- 
ber of their scouts whom we have taken, and from deserters who 
have come within our lines in great numbers. Our rapid 
marches were ordered for the purpose of intercepting them, but 
they have probably known our intentions, as it is thought they 



67 



have gone by the other way ; we expect now to be ordered to 
Chambersburg. I tell you, I was glad to get here and rest last 
night ; I had not eaten a meal for forty hours, except one cup of 
coffee and a small piece of bread with a very little meat. Fourth 
of July we spent in marching all day, and it was the night of 
the Fourth that we spent in the mud in the woods. I shall never 
forget it ; it was the most horrible night I ever spent, and I am 
truly thankful to my Heavenly Father for preserving me from 
the death that was so imminent. 

The regular army cavalrymen, who came through, said that 
they had never known any march so severe, and several men in 
the 55th and 71st— who have served since the war commenced — 
say that so rapid, so long, and so difficult a march they never 
knew. 

I find life " on the march " not so pleasant as life in camp, 
especially at our camp near Harrisburg, where we were delight- 
fully situated. But I am happy to say that I have kept up with 
the front of the Regiment through all. I did not expect to be 
able to, but have done so and feel in excellent condition, but 
very much in need of rest, sleep, and food ; these I expect to get 
before we start again. Our Chaplain is going to try to find a 
Postoffice, so I send this now. 

Give love to all. I look forward with the greatest pleasure to 



es 



meeting you all in two weeks. My thoughts have been con- 
stantly with you during the last week, and I feel that I can ap- 
preciate the comforts and the dear ones of home more and better 
than ever before. With much loye to all, believe me, more than 
ever lovingly, 



Your son, 



Thomas. 



July 15th. 

We marched but about five miles yesterday, and encamped 
on the other side of Boonsboro, at a little place called Ben- 
evola, on Beaver Creek. Spent the afternoon in bathing and 
reading — had a splendid bath, but was obliged to put on my 
dirty, muddy clothes again, as we have no change of clothing 
with us. We received news in the evening that we were to 
march for home this morning ; this was received with the great- 
est enthusiasm — the very word of home is music to us now. A 
gentleman came in camp last night direct from General Hall> 
at Harrisburg ; he had brought Susie's letter to me ; it was like 
giving food to a starving man, as I had not received a word from 
home for almost two weeks. 

We broke camp this morning at eight o'clock, and started for 
Frederick City, by way of Boonsboro. Arriving at the latter 
place we found ourselves in the midst of the Army of the Poto- 



69 



mac. I never saw such immense numbers of army wagons of all 
kinds ; they were gathered together in groups covering acres, and 
also stringing far along the road for miles. The road over which 
we" passed is the turnpike, being the widest and best road we 
have yet marched over. 

The different camps of the great Potomac Army, were scattered 
along at intervals ; we passed immense numbers of men and army 
equipages of all kinds. Near Boonsboro are situated the head- 
quarters of Major General Smith, who has had command of our 
corps since we left Harrisburg. He formerly commanded a 
corps in the regular Army of the Potomac — the Sixth I believe 
— and is noted for his dash and perseverance ; he has rushed us 
along lately at a fearful rate, as he formerly did. the veteran 
troops. 

General Smith and Staff were standing on the piazza of his 
headquarters as we passed, and removed his hat in acknowledg- 
ment of the cheers we gave him. He is a good-looking middle- 
aged man, medium height, stout, full of life ; makes an excellent, 
energetic army officer. 

As we passed through Boonsboro, we saw Gen. Meade, Gen. 
Pleasanton and staff, and a number of other general and staff 
officers. They were on horseback, riding toward Frederick 
City. We spoke to Meade's body guard, who said that it was 



70 



now Meade's intention to push on with all speed to Richmond, 
as he had a much shorter distance to go than Lee had. Lee 
seems to have crossed the Potomac, and it would appear to be 
very feasible that Meade should push instantly toward the Rebel 
Capital. I was very glad to get a sight of Meade, as he cer- 
tainly has proved himself thus far the man. I should say he was 
over fifty years of age, tall and gaunt, with a very decided stoop 
of the shoulders, and an anxious, care-worn expression of coun- 
tenance. It is said the stoop is occasioned by his former studi- 
ous habit, as he is a scholar. He rode ahead of his staff, and 
reminded me of the pictures I have seen of John Brown. Gen. 
Pleasanton is a younger man, not so tall, and stouter ; he wore 
a straw hat, but I had no good opportunity of judging of his 
character, as he rode rapidly by. 

"We were constantly passed on the road by cavalry regiments 
dashing on. I never saw such riding as I have witnessed during 
my campaign life ; every horseman goes at the top of his speed > 
and all ride finely ; they all sit firmly in the saddle, toes turned 
out, legs stiff and straight, body back, and ride according to the 
regular army fashion — a constant jolt. I have not seen a single 
rider yet ease himself in the stirrups, after the manner of our 
gentleman riders at home. They all sit firm and steady, and go 
it like mad. The effect of this hard riding is seen constantly 



71 



along the road, which is strewn on all sides, at short intervals, 
with the carcasses of dead horses and mules, so that the whole 
country is perfumed with the odor of dead horse-flesh — it is 
most sickening, and I should think would soon cause a pesti- 
lence. 

After leaving Boonsboro, we kept on the regular pike until we 
reached the South Mountain, and entered the South Mountain 
pass — here we crossed the very battle field where the memorable 
battle of South Mountain, of last Fall, was fought. It is a very 
romantic and exceedingly beautiful pass, and possessed a great 
deal of interest for us. A little beyond the pass is situated Mid- 
dleton, which we passed through ; this is quite a little town, 
with a tall church, the very one in which General Kearney was 
carried after being wounded in the before-mentioned battle — he 
died in this church. 

Leaving Middleton we passed through valleys and over moun- 
tains, seeing as we passed the different camps of the several 
corps of the Potomac Army, with their vast crowds of wagons, 
etc. Occasionally a battery would pass us, each cannon drawn 
by six horses ; the march was rather more interesting than agree- 
able, as the remains of old dirty camps and the stench of dead 
horses met us on every side. I forgot to mention that near 
Boonsboro we passed over the battle field of last Sunday, where 



72 



our cavalry charged so impetuously against the rebel infantry ; 
the dead horses were lying in all directions, and the air was filled 
with this reeking decay. What a terrible place is a battle field ! 
We were on the way home, so we did not mind our fatigue 
but pushed on toward Frederick, where we arrived about six 
o'clock. The city is quite a large one, rather old in appearance, 
houses mostly built of rough hewn stone, as are most of the 
houses in Maryland ; we were not greeted very enthusiastically, 
as there is a decided secesh sentiment prevalent here. As our 
army came winding into the city, I had an opportunity of see- 
ing its proportions, and was astonished ; our column extended 
for more than a mile and a half over the road, four abreast in 
thick solid column, all New York State Militia. We numbered 
between five and eight thousand men, and presented a very for- 
midable appearance. Our Regiment was situated near the center, 
and as I stood on a slight elevation, and looked either way, I 
could not see the termination of either flank, nothing but one 
dense moving mass of men. The numbers of some of the Regi- 
ments are as follows (I was not able to get all ; they were all 
New York State Militia) : 8th, 11th, 13th, 32d, 23d, 28th, 37th, 
52d, 56th, 68th, 71st, and a good many more ; we passed through 
the city, the distance of over a mile, and halted on the opposite 
side, having marched since eight o'clock in the morning twenty 



73 



We were pretty well tired out and foot-sore, but still had 
several miles to march before we could reach the railroad junc- 
tion. During our halt we managed to get a little bread and 
some stale gingerbread, which slightly appeased our hunger. 

We make no scruples now of rushing into every house we pass, 
begging or buying a piece of bread and butter. I have eaten 
almost nothing but hard tack for about a week, and often find it 
difficult to get enough of that ; we have salt pork, but this is so 
fat and disagreeable that I only eat it when I can get nothing 
else. 

About half-past eight we left Frederick City, and marched to 
the railroad junction, a distance of several miles, arriving there 
at ten o'clock or thereabouts. We had hoped to get transporta- 
tion to Baltimore immediately, but were doomed to disappoint- 
ment, so rolling our overcoats about us we lay down upon the 
grass, and were soon far away at home, in dream-land. 

July 16* 
Yesterday's march was the longest one We have yet made, 
having traveled a distance of twenty-five miles, with very 
few rests ; we passed over the ground at a very quick rate, kept 
up by the thought that we were on our way home. I conversed 
while in Frederick with one of the regular army, who said that 



74 



when they traveled eighteen miles a day they thought they had 
done well, but twenty-five miles was something to brag of. The 
only thing I have to complain of is sore feet ; my shoes are so 
large and dilapidated that the sand gets in and grinds away at 
a great rate, but now, thank Heaven, our marching is pretty 
near at an end; we are encamped in a grove near the rail- 
road junction, expecting constantly to be sent on our way re- 
joicing. 

We received the Baltimore papers yesterday with an account 
of the terrible riot in New Tork ; oh ! how we long to be there. 
We had rather fight those dastards than the rebs ; the boys are 
unanimous in their feeling, and as to the regular army, as we 
passed them yesterday, they vented terrible imprecations against 
the Copperheads of New York. The entire army is true blue, 
and if they could get a chance at those fellows in the city, they 
would tear them limb from limb. This outbreak seems the more 
outrageous as we have had such a succession of splendid victo- 
ries lately ; but as it was a premeditated thing, I suppose it was 
bound to come off at all events. We also heard yesterday of the 
surrender of Port Hudson with 18,000 prisoners ; it seems as 
though the war must be near its close. 

Now that we are almost at the end of our thirty days' service, 
I feel that I would not have missed it for anything, and yet I 



75 



would not pass through it again unless for the greatest necessity. 
I never before knew what it was to be hungry, going for thirty- 
six hours with not enough to make a scanty meal ; never before 
have I known what it was to be utterly prostrated with fatigue, 
until now, when night after night I have felt perfectly exhausted, 
both physically and mentally, and have fallen to the ground with 
scarcely strength enough remaining to remove my equipments, 
and slept through rain storms and everything else. I have been 
astonished at my own powers of endurance ; while the strongest 
men in our company have fallen out on the march, and caught 
up to us afterwards by means of wagons, I have not been 
obliged to fall out once, but have kept along constantly, 
although obliged to test my powers at times to the uttermost. 

On a day's march, after traveling for two or three miles, we 
halt for ten or fifteen minutes, and then up and on again for 
three or four miles, and then another rest, and so on for a whole 
day. I have been in the habit, as soon as the column came to a 
halt, of throwing myself upon the ground and sleeping until we 
started again ; by this means I have recruited my strength and 
have been enabled to keep on when others have fallen out; but 
through all, my health has been excellent, and through hunger, 
fatigue, sore feet, although sleeping in pools of water without 
my blanket, under rain and dew, with my clothes wet through, 



76 



and my feet and pants heavy with mud, I have not felt a 
pain or an ache, have had good appetite, excellent digestion 
and good health in general— but of this I would not boast, 
but return the sincere thanks of a grateful heart to my Heavenly 
Father for His constant support and strength, 

Feiday, July 17, 
On our arrival at Frederick Junction, on Wednesday even- 
ing, we expected to start at midnight for Baltimore, but 
we found that General Couch had countermanded the order, 
so we were obliged to go into camp, where we remained 
during Thursday. The extremely long and fatiguing march 
we underwent on Wednesday was the occasion of very serious 
results to some of our men. Three men died during the night 
in consequence of the fatigue — one of the 28th, one in the 71st, 
and one in the 8th ; another in the 28th was made lunatic for the 
time, and a number of others were made sick by excessive 
fatigue. This march was far too long, and has been condemned 
as entirely unnecessary. 

Quite an interesting event occurred in camp on Thursday — a 
man was drummed out of the 56th for stealing. The circum- 
stances are these : one of the regiment had a fainting fit, and 
the villain, under the pretence of assisting him, ran up and stole 
his watch and some money, while he was in an unconscious state ; 



77 



the thief hid the watch in a hole in the ground under his tent, 
but it was found and he brought to justice ; the result was that 
he was condemned to be drummed out, which, by-the-by, is 
quite an interesting ceremony. Just one-half of the fellow's 
head was shaved close to his skin, leaving it perfectly white ; on 
this half, tar was thickly spread, rendering him one of the most 
ludicrous and disgusting objects ; his uniform was stripped from 
him, and he was marched, before the entire regiment, up and 
down the line several times, surrounded by a guard with fixed 
bayonets in such close proximity to his body that if he faltered 
in his march they would stick in him ; in front of the guard 
marched a drummer playing the " Rogue's March." During the 
ceremony the criminal was greeted with the jeers and howls 
from all quarters. After a while the guard was removed and he 
permitted to run, when a shower of rotten eggs and other rub- 
bish broke on. his head and body, and he ran for dear life, pur- 
sued by a gang of men who were determined to duck him in the 
river. The man would have been all but killed, had not the 
Adjutant of the 71st interfered and kept the mob back ; as it 
was, he made his escape to Baltimore, where he will probably 
continue his depredations. 

On Thursday night, about half-past twelve, the drum startled 
us from sleep, when we received orders to prepare for instant de- 
parture for Baltimore ; we buckled on our baggage and marched 



78 



down to the cars, but were obliged to stand out in the rain until 
morning, on account of the delay occasioned by transmitting so 
large a body of troops. The rain was heavy and we became soak- 
ingly wet, which dampness has continued to the present writing. 
At last we were all shoved into dirty, rickety freight cars, and 
were obliged to lie down flat upon the floor, as there was not a 
sign of a seat ; there was not even room to lie down ; some were 
obliged to remain standing, and we had a very disagreeable trip 
to Baltimore. We did not start from the Junction until half- 
past seven, and arrived in Baltimore at half-past three in the af- 
ternoon. We passed the Kelay House, made so famous in the 
first part of the war. It is a small, unpretending building, very 
old-fashioned, situated at the junction of the Baltimore and 
Ohio, and the Baltimore and Washington Kailroads. 

Arriving at Baltimore, we marched through the city, through 
Pratt street, where the Massachusetts Kegiment was fired on, on 
the 19th of April, 1861. After marching two miles, we reached 
the Philadelphia depot, when we were dismissed and allowed an 
opportunity to get something to eat, which I improved with a 
vengeance, and ate the only decent meal I had had since I ate 
breakfast with father at Harrisburg three weeks ago. On re- 
turning to the Philadelphia depot, we found our Brigadier Gen- 
eral, Jesse C. Smith, had decided to send us home by way of 
Harrisburg, and we were compelled to march through the city 



79 



for the distance of about three miles to the Harrisburg depot. 
This last march led us through the upper and more respectable 
j)art of the city, which I think is a well laid out and, in fact, a 
very respectable one. Occasionally we were greeted with cheers 
and waving of flags, but the predominant sentiment is supposed 
to be secesh. After a great deal of delay we were again put in 
dirty freight cars, forty-two men in a car, packed like sardines. 
The night passed most uncomfortably ; sleeping in dirty freight 
cars is worse than sleeping under the clear blue sky, with lofty 
forest trees waving over head, and the quiet stars twinkling far 
above, as though they kept watch over all. Sleeping in a forest 
on a pleasant night is not at all unpleasant, but packed in dirty 
cars so closely that there is no room to turn over, is disagreeable 
in the extreme. 

"We did not leave Baltimore until one o'clock at night, and 
even then our progress was extremely slow, as the train was very 
heavy, and we were obliged time after time to run on a side 
track and allow some other trains to pass us. By ten o'clock in 
the morning of Saturday, we found ourselves but thirty miles 
from Baltimore, and fifty miles from Harrisburg — we, however, 
kept on slowly ; the men could not stand it inside the cars, so 
we all got on top, covering the entire train. As we passed along 
up the valley, we saw constant evidences of the late march of 
the rebs ; every railroad bridge had been burnt, and we were 



80 



compelled to cross ravines and streams on hastily constructed 
fabrics that seemed very unsafe. We passed through York at 
three o'clock, and got a little bit of bread and butter. The 
people here seemed quite patriotic. Just beyond York was for- 
merly the largest bridge on this side of the Susquehanna, crossing 
the Kenawagna ; it had been burned by the rebs, but replaced. 
This very morning a freight train, a few hours ahead of us, in at- 
tempting to cross the new bridge had broken through. The 
engine, tender, and two or three cars, were precipitated into the 
river below. Hogs and sheep composed the freight — many were 
jammed to death, others maimed and some escaped. The engi- 
neer and conductor were reported fatally injured. No other lives 
lost. We left our train, crossed the river on pontoons, and 
took another train on the other side. 

This was fourteen miles from Harrisburg. We traveled the 
intervening space in about an hour. The ride was very pleas- 
ant, the day was just giving place to twilight, and the new moon 
rising on our left made the scene very beautiful. Our road ran 
close by the side of the Susquehanna, which is really a very 
beautiful river, very wide at this point, dotted with innumerable 
islands, and as the stream rolled on calmly and placidly, reflect* 
ing from its glassy surface the brilliant hues of sunset, we almost 
imagined ourselves in Fairy land. We were all on the top of the 
cars, and thus had the opportunity of enjoying the scene fully. 



(&%txMt$ fxm m (&$mj 



THE QUESTION", 

"SHOULD MINISTERS OF THE GOSPEL BE SUBJECT 
TO DRAFT?" 

I think the question resolves itself into this : " Can a Minis- 
ter of the Gospel best discharge his obligations to God, best 
perform his duty to his fellow men, and best advance the cause 
of his country, by enlisting in the ranks ? " I believe most em- 
phatically, not. In the first place, the true minister is one whom 
the Spirit of God has prompted to the work, and in obedience 
to this holy dictation he stands pointing and leading erring 
souls to Heaven. T7iis is his proper work, this his sphere of 
action; in it he exerts his utmost power, and wields his mightiest 
influence. 

In our land, there are hundreds of thousands willing, as soon 



82 



as necessary, to leap into the field ; men who are in almost every 
respect fitted for positions in the rank and file of our armies, men 
who in that capacity can serve our country better than in any 
other. Of these are multitudes of good and holy men, who carj 
impart spiritual instruction — ministers who will volunteer as 
chaplains, because as such they will still be prosecuting the work 
their Master gave them to do. 

"We at the North have as yet hardly experienced the first indi- 
cations of the extremities of war ; we do not understand extrem- 
ity. After this vast army of volunteers has been mustered, we 
have still a population, almost illimitable in number, subject to 
draft, and of this vast multitude may be formed armies well nigh 
sufficient to challenge the united effort of Europe. But that 
cause must indeed be extreme which shall call upon the minister 
of God to lay down the pen and take up the sword, to lay aside 
the emblems of his holy order and wear the soldier's garb ! Can 
we by this expect to augment the moral power of our cause ? 
Fatal mistake ! The pen is mightier than the sword. How em- 
phatically true in this case, where the pen is in the hand of God's 
anointed, guided by His Holy Spirit. Who is there who shall 
set bounds to the influence for good of such a power, guided 
and directed by such an inspiration ? 

In viewing this question, it is understood that, if the minister 



83 



be subject to draft, he is to serve in the capacity of a soldier, 
not as a minister ; that he is not drafted to serve as chaplain, 
but all distinctions between him and his fellow citizens are thrown 
aside, and he submits entirely to the military power, his future 
occupation in the army being at the discretion of his military 
commander. Now, I ask, what right has the man of God, what 
right has any one to call upon the man of God, to do this ? Is 
his charge his own, that he is at liberty to hold it or cast it from 
him at pleasure ? I admit that at the present time the cause 
which would call him forth is a noble, holy one, but there being 
no actual necessity for his service in the military capacity, the 
cause which he neglects is vastly more important) and its claims 
are more binding and obligatory. 

The cause which calls upon others to do battle in the field, 
calls upon the minister of God to stand fast at his post, to 
use the full power given him by his Master, to wield his 
mightiest influence now as never before, and to keep clear and 
bright that eye of faith by which alone we shall be able to pierce 
the darkness which surrounds US; 

In contemplating the history of nations, it will be found to be 
the almost universal record) that the effect of war has been to 
demoralize and corrupt the people in whose midst it has been 
Waged. I believe this has not been the case with the people of 



84 



the North, although victory has not, as was anticipated, perched 
upon our banners from the first ; although misfortune has suc- 
ceeded to misfortune, and calamity has spread a night of gloom 
over our dear land, brightened only here and there with glimpses 
of approaching day ; although the soil of America has been ren- 
dered sacred by its baptism of loyal blood, thus consecrating it 
to the cause of liberty and justice. Notwithstanding calamity 
and defeat, carnage and destruction ; yes, and even by means of 
all these, the national character has been elevated; the confi- 
dence of the people has been turned from trusting in an arm of 
flesh, and the great throbbing heart of the nation has been lifted 
in humility and trust to Him who holds us in the hollow of His 
hand, who controls the destiny of all His creatures. 

The people of the North, guided, and consoled, and encour- 
aged by the faithful labors of God's representatives among them, 
have been taught to look above the vicissitudes of war, and the 
impotency of man, and to trust in that arm in which alone there 
is strength. What a sacred task has been that of the true minis- 
ter in these the darkest days of our nation's history ! Sis it has 
been to soothe the sorrowing and the afflicted ; to wipe the tear 
of the mourner, and calm the now aching heart of the stricken 
one. Sis it has been to enter the home circle, rendered deso- 
late by the loss of some dear and loved one, to raise those hearts 



85 



crushed down by grief, and point them to Him who is the 
Father of the fatherless and the widow's God. "Who can ap- 
proach a family bowed down in affliction, with such propriety, 
or so lovingly, as he who is commissioned with messages of love 
and consolation from God Himself? "Blessed are they that 
mourn, for they shall be comforted," fell from the Master's lips, 
and the faithful servant proves the truth of his Master's words, 
for by the messages he bears from God, the mourning heart is 
comforted. 

What are we fighting for, but to advance the cause of 
Christian liberty, to hold fast those sacred legacies committed to 
our charge by ancestors who sealed them with their blood, and 
while our armies go forth on this holy mission, would you cut 
off the fountain head ? As the wearied, discouraged soldier fal- 
ters in battle, he is inspired to renewed effort by the thought that 
before him are traitors and haters of good government, while be- 
hind him, cheering his heart and upholding his hands, are those 
faithful to the trust committed them by the Master, maintaining 
that Christian sentiment which daily brings the people nearer 
God ; a sentiment which swells upward and onward in its majes- 
tic grandeur, overwhelming the machinations of secret traitorSj 
overriding all feeling of discouragement and despair, triumph- 
ing over every influence antagonistic to the success of the right ; 



86 



a sentiment which alone is more powerful than armies, more 
invincible than walls of steel. This noble Christian sentiment, 
growing vaster and more irresistible as our people become more 
thoroughly Christian, will roll over every line of party distinc- 
tion, will submerge every feeling of disloyalty, will meet our 
armies with its quickening, inspiring power, and bear them on 
its crested wave triumphantly to the very Gulf. 

This faith in God, kept alive in the hearts of our people, is the 
only power which has sustained us through these years of car- 
nage and of death. What would be our condition to-day, had 
we not faith to trust in our Heavenly Father for the future ? 
And at last, should our nation issue from this fiery trial purified 
and exalted, it will owe its salvation to that holy faith kept alive 
in the hearts of the people by the blessed work of the Christian 
ministry, who, amid the despondency and despair of a nation, 
maintained that trust committed them by the Master, and who 
have daily and weekly borne the people up and bound them 
near to God by the golden Chord of prayer. 

I will then merely recapitulate my leading arguments. The 
minister should not be called upon to serve in the capacity of a 
soldier, first, because he is not actually needed ; there are hun^ 
dreds of thousands of others, better able and better calculated 
to serve in the ranks. Secondly, in that capacity he could not 



87 



exert such an influence for good, or discharge his duty to God 
and man, as in his profession. Again, he has no right to lay- 
aside his sacred obligations as an ordained minister of Christ, 
and serve in another capacity, unless in the most extreme case, 
and that extremity is not yet upon us. His vocation is not of 
his own choosing merely, but is a holy commission from the 
Most High, and he cannot, he dare not, hold it or cast it from 
him at pleasure, and if we believe at all that God's blessing fol- 
lows and sanctifies the efforts of His ministers, if we believe 
that our nation owes its existence and present state of civiliza- 
tion to the spread of the Gospel, then we must believe that, were 
we deprived of the teachings and influence of these shepherds 
of Christ's flock, we would indeed relapse into a state of bar- 
barism. 

Christ spoke to the Christian Church in its infancy, and down 
through the ages that sacred voice is heard, now as then, saying : 
" Behold ! I come quickly : hold that fast which thou hast, that 
no man take thy crown." 

Bkooklyn, March 24, 1863. 



GOD'S POWER INSPIRED BY LOVE. 

I tossed upon my bed at break of day ; 
False Sleep had fled my unrefreshed eyes, 
And hovered here and there on poised wing, 
Now bending low, to fan with gentle sweep 
Of her dark pinion, my hot fever'd brow, 
And then away ; but at her near approach 
The gentle undulation of the air, 
Caused by the dreamy flapping of her wing, 
As in her indecision, playfully 
She neither came, nor went, and yet did both — 
This gentle, wavy motion of the air 
Would almost lull my sense to calm repose, 
But hardly thus, when quickly would she soar, 
And leave me to my sleepless rest alone. 
The dreams, which during her short reign had held 
Dominion over heart, and thought, and brain, 
Now changed to waking thoughts, almost as vague 



89 



As dreams themselves ; these fancies uncontroll'd, 
And holding shadowy conclave in the realm 
Where dreams run riot, shaped themselves at last, 
And taking form, appeared in words like these : 

How beautiful is nature ! God doth give 
Unto his children whom He loves so well 
The power to gain, while gazing on His works, 
Their highest pleasure and their lasting good. 
Oh, could we bring our minds to see aright 
These tokens of our Maker's endless power, 
These proofs of our dear Father's matchless love, 
We should live lives of greater purity, 
We should be nearer and more like our God. 
For what more fitted to inspire the heart, 
Than all this vast display of constant care ? 
The mind devout, will rise from this fair scene, 
From all its matchless beauty, and ascend 
From viewing nature up to nature's God. 
The mind devout, I say ; for there are minds 
Who see in nature naught but nature's self, 
Who see no trace of love or power divine 
Which sit supreme and govern over alL 



LofC 



90 

To these dull minds mere nature is a God 



For Pantheism has no eye of faith, 

And will not credit what it cannot see. 

Then there are those, again, who think that chance 

Created nature ; these will not admit 

That God exists, or any other power 

That governs all ; they think the world was made 

By chance, and chance alone; it happened so ; 

Things sprang up into life by their own power, » 

And may, at any time, spring back again ; 

Oh, dull, blind eyes ! Oh, duller, blinder minds ! 

Oh, wicked hearts, which live, and move, and breathe, 

And have your very being in God's love, 

And yet will not acknowledge it to Him ! 

Come with me now, and gaze upon His works, 

And let the view break those cold hearts of stone, 

Bow those proud heads, and bend the knee in prayer. 

Oh ! as we gaze, could we but bring our minds 
To grapple with the mysteries of Heaven, 
To sound the depth of the Creator's plan, 
To comprehend the Thought omnipotent 
Which seems to permeate all forms of life,— 



91 



To ask, " Why is this grand display of power ? 
" Why hang these worlds above us, high in space ? 
" Why whirl they in their orbits, quick as thought, 
" Nor clash, nor jar, but keep such perfect time 
" Chanting the solemn music of the spheres ? ' n 
Could we but have the power to penetrate 
The veil which often hangs to our dim eyes 
Between th' Almighty's motive and His work ; 
Could we but understand the secret cause 
Of this sublime display of God-like power ; 
This beauteous world, these swift revolving spheres 
Of mom and night, of day and month and year ; 
Of season after season, perfect each 
In its own full completeness, or in that 
Which each one gives in turn unto the rest ; 
Were we but fully conscious of the cause — ■ 
But stay — what is it that we wish to learn ? 
Would ye know, why, and wherefore, all this is ? 
Then list unto these solemn words which ring 
Down through the ages, and to all mankind 
Explain the mightiest mystery of time : 
" For God the Father did so love the world 
" That He most freely gave His only Son, 



92 



" That whosoe'er believing might not die, 
" Might not be lost, but have eternal life ; 
" And that whoe'er depended on His love 
" Might live with Him forever in the skies ; 
"Might dwell through all eternity with God." 

Behold ye, then, the mystery of Heaven ! 
Behold, at last, Creation's secret shown ! 
That motive which could prompt the Lord to die, 
Did likewise prompt Him, at Creation's dawn, 
When first he hurled into the lap of space 
This mighty world — this proof of His vast power ; 
When first, from out the dust, created man 
Sprang into being, imaged after God, 
With high and holy instinct, taught to know 
The will of his Creator as his own. 
Then sang the morning stars for very joy, 
Then voice of angel and archangel rang, 
And high the Heavenly diapason rose, 
And shook the very vaults of Heaven with song. 
Thus sprang creation, proof of God's great power, 
Yet not His power alone, — nay, nay, His love ; 
For love supreme did first provoke this power 



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And gave it impulse ; yes, 'twas love divine — 
That love which prompted Him to save the earth- 
Controll'd His impulse when He gave it birth. 



MEMOKIES OF THE PAST. 

Softly approaching, the still Summer evening 
Throws its deep shadows o'er meadow and lea ; 

Now, by the bright eye of fancy discerning, 
Spirits of loved ones around me I see. 

Hushed are the accents which gladden'd the morning 
Stilled are the voices which rang through the day ; 

Gently and calmly the evening approaches, 
Bathed in rich twilight by the sun's parting ray. 

Darker and denser the evening shades gather ; 

Hushed is all tumult, while nature doth rest. 
Now, we hold converse with spirits of loved ones 

Who have gone on to the realms of the blest. 

Tell us not, scoffer, that this is all fancy : 

Nothing can equal the power of love ; 
'Tis by this passion we leave all things earthly, 

And, through much suffering, reach Heaven above. 



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'Tis by our faith, and our heart's deep affections, 
That we hold communion with Heaven above ; 

God is all perfect, and we are all sinful, 
Yet this deep chasm is bridg'd o'er by love. 

Thus, though the dark waves of death roll between us, 
Though we may seek for our dear ones in vain, 

Yet, on the wings of our love we may cross them, 
And spirit with spirit hold converse again. 

True, we admit, that no tangible presence 
Dawns on our vision or startles our sight, 

Yet, in the hour of heartfelt devotion, 
We are then conscious that messengers bright 

Hover around us, and bear our prayer upward, 
Upward they bear it, unto that white Throne ; 

And through the love of our Father most holy, 
In richest of blessings the answer comes down. 

Thus we believe that the spirits of loved ones 

Hover around us, and keep us from sin ; 
They who have reached the bright mansions before us* 

Would, to those mansions, our fainting hearts win. 



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Thus, while the quiet of evening is falling, 
While the rich twilight grows dusky and gray 

Softly the mem'ries of loved ones steal o'er us, 
Giving us proof they are not far away. 

This is a holy hour. Hushed is all tumult ; 

The heart's fiery passions, with nature, at rest. 
Thought follows thought through the vista of mem'ry, 

The present is lost, as we think on the past. 

Thus may we ever, while treading life's pathway, 
Dwell on the memories of lost ones beloved ; 

They are not lost ones, for Jesus has found them — 
They from his presence shall ne'er be removed. 

Let the rememb'rance of words of affection, 
Let the rich memory of deeds done in love, 

Soothe us in sorrow, and lighten affliction, 
While o'er life's path we resignedly move. 

Cherish most fondly each tender affection, 

Hallowing the present with thoughts of the past : 

Thus are we strengthened to bear life's affliction ; 
Thus are we fitted for Heaven at last, 



HP 



